STRING OF FATE | HEESEUNG

one : It Hurts So Good

“Look at us now... we’re far enough.”

     The words barely escaped her lips as she sat crumpled on the cold staircase, her messy hair a halo of chaos around her tear-streaked face. Nami looked like someone who’d been battling storms inside her head—and losing.

Three days had passed. Three days of locked doors, muffled sobs, and a refusal to eat. Her once-vivid spirit now felt like a ghost haunting her own body.

And then, a knock at the door.

“Nami, please…” The voice cracked slightly, laced with concern. “It’s been three days. I’m begging you, just open the door.”

The door creaked open, and there she was—a shadow of herself. Her oversized pajamas hung limply on her frame, her face pale, eyes hollow.

This wasn’t the Nami Heeseung remembered.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the chest.

“Please, Nami. Be okay,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice trembling.

Nami didn’t answer. Instead, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face against his chest, the warmth of his embrace a stark contrast to the cold that had seeped into her bones.

He held her tight, grounding her, silently willing her pain to ease. After a few moments, she pulled away, but Heeseung wasn’t ready to let go entirely. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her tear-streaked cheeks.

“Have you been crying this whole time?” he asked softly.

Nami’s lips quivered as fresh tears spilled over. She nodded, biting her lip, unable to form the words.

Heeseung’s heart twisted painfully. He tucked a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering as if afraid she might break if he let go. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

But even as he said it, his chest tightened.

This wasn’t his Nami—the one who used to light up the room with her laughter, the one who found joy in the simplest things.

“I miss the old you,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

At that, she crumpled to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her. She wrapped her arms around herself as sobs wracked her fragile frame.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out between ragged breaths. “I’m sorry for being such a burden… I—I don’t even deserve to be here anymore. I ruin everything I touch…”

Her hands curled into fists, and she struck the ground weakly, as if punishing herself.

“Nami, stop!” Heeseung dropped to his knees, grabbing her hands before she could hurt herself further. His voice cracked as tears welled in his own eyes. “This… this isn’t going to bring him back. Please, Nami, I need you to stop. I need you to stay.”

The fight in her seemed to drain all at once. Her small, fragile hands fell limp in his.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m so, so tired, Heeseung…”

And all he could do was hold her, cradling her against his chest as her tears soaked his shirt.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting go. Not now, not ever.”

He didn’t know if his words would ever be enough to mend her shattered heart. But he was willing to try. For her, he’d try a thousand times over.

-

     It had been two weeks since Haru's funeral, and Nami still couldn't shake the numbness that clung to her like a second skin. She tried to go through the motions of everyday life, but each day felt like wading through a fog of emptiness. The grief was heavy, suffocating, and no matter how hard she tried to breathe, it was always there, pulling her under.

Heeseung had been there every step of the way. It was as if he knew exactly when to show up—at the exact moments when she needed him the most. But he never pushed. Never asked questions. He simply existed beside her, a quiet comfort she didn’t have to ask for.

It was in the small things—when he made her tea, when he silently cleaned up after her, when he stayed up late just to keep her company. Heeseung wasn’t Haru. He never would be. But he was the only one who seemed to understand that sometimes, silence was enough. He didn’t need her to smile, to speak, to be anything other than who she was in that moment.

One evening, Nami found herself sitting by the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass. The world outside felt distant, muted, like it wasn’t real. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt truly connected to anything. Her thoughts wandered back to Haru, and the guilt clawed at her. The what-ifs and should-haves that never seemed to end.

That’s when Heeseung appeared in the doorway, his expression soft but serious. "Hey," he said gently, stepping inside.

"You okay?"

Nami didn't answer at first. She just stared out the window, her face expressionless. But Heeseung knew her too well. He didn’t expect her to be okay.

“I’m sorry, Nami,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s hard. But you don’t have to go through this alone.”

In his words, a lump formed in Nami’s throat, and before she knew it, her body was shaking with quiet sobs. The walls she’d been holding up for so long cracked, and the grief came flooding back in full force.

She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone to say those words. To let her know that someone cared enough to share the weight.

Heeseung moved to her side, kneeling down in front of her. "It’s okay to cry, Nami. I’m here."

Nami wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him like she might disappear if she let go. Heeseung didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, grounding her in a way she didn’t know she needed.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” she whispered through her tears. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve been better.”

Heeseung shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. “You didn’t fail him, Nami. Haru knew how much you loved him. You gave him everything.”

But Nami wasn’t sure if she could believe that. The guilt gnawed at her, an endless loop of regret. She had loved him with everything she had, but it didn’t feel like enough. Not now, when he was gone.

Heeseung pulled back slightly, looking at her with soft, understanding eyes. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than usual.

He didn’t say anything else; he didn’t need to. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Nami looked at him then, really looked at him. She had always known Heeseung cared about her, but in that moment, something shifted. There was something in the way he held her, in the way he looked at her, that made her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the same as with Haru.

No, it was different. But it was there. She could feel it.

And yet, she didn’t know what to do with it. She couldn’t even process it. Not now. Not when she was still so tangled up in her grief.

But Heeseung didn’t push. He simply stayed, his presence a quiet reassurance that, even if she didn’t have all the answers,

she wasn’t alone.